


The good, the bad, the wise and the wicked

by chick_with_wifi



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 07:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9481190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chick_with_wifi/pseuds/chick_with_wifi
Summary: They weren't a four alarm fire in an oil refinery, not anymore. They were kids playing with matches in a cruel, unforgiving world. And they burned the house down.





	

The floor of the taxi judders beneath Root and makes her feel sick as they speed down the road. The metallic taste of John’s blood hangs in the air as he lies across the back seat while Sameen straddles his hips and presses a soaked cloth on the still-bleeding bullet wound in his shoulder. There is a bruise forming on her cheek and hair falling into her face.

Sameen’s hands don't shake. Sameen’s hands never shake. As always they are firm and precise, yet also unfailingly gentle.

Root’s hands are shaking, she notices as she looks down to see them resting in her lap. How long has that been going on for?

Probably the same amount of time she has been knelt on the floor of the taxi behind the front seat which she pushed forward when they stole the vehicle so she would be able to help Shaw if needed. And also, she remembers suddenly, to hide from the cameras.

Because she messed up and now Samaritan can see all of them. The memory causes her breath to catch in her throat and her abdomen to clench like somebody ripped out her stomach and threw it off a cliff.

“How we doing, Finch?” Shaw asks while pushing her hair out of her face in frustration and renewing her pressure on John’s injury, making him groan. “The bleeding should have stopped by now,” she mutters.

Root leans her head back against the seat and resists the urge to close her eyes. She breathes through her nose. In, out. In, out. She still feels sick with guilt and can barely look at Sameen.

“Not too badly,” Harold says through gritted teeth, anger giving his tone a hard edge. He is driving the taxi and wearing a ski mask so Samaritan cannot recognise him. Bear is sat on the front passenger seat next to him.

Harold’s harsh voice makes Root flinch. She contemplates how it would feel to sink through the floor of their stolen taxi and not have to deal with all of this. Samee - everyone is in danger because of her.

“We need to get him to a hospital,” Shaw says. “I can't do anything to help him here and it might get infected.”

“You know as well as I do that is not an option,” Harold replies stiffly.

Root just wants everyone to stop talking. It needs to be quiet but it isn't and she can't control it. It’s too loud and there are too many things going on.

“Our first priority is to get ourselves to safety.” They have to hide so Samaritan can't see them. But Samaritan can't see the Machine so She is directing Harold while he drives. Leading them towards an area of the shadow map.

“We can't wait until we have left the country to give him medical help,” Shaw protests. The cloth is sodden by this point and not doing any good.

‘Left the country’. The phrase echoes around Root’s head like it is in a pinball machine but doesn't quite sink in. She knows, logically, that they are going to flee the country and change their names in order to start a new life but somehow the concept seems far away and irresolute.

John’s eyes are closed and his arms hang limply by his sides. He is unconscious. Root should probably tell Sameen but she can't seem to pull herself together enough to interact with anyone. Part of her is in her body, and the other part is floating somewhere near her and observing everything from a different plane. Kind of like a security camera watching over a park, always observing but never interacting.

“Sameen,” Harold snaps. “I too regret what happened with Samaritan’s servers but that is no reason to go endangering all our lives.”

Shaw looks up at Harold with fury in her eyes. Root has never seen her this angry before. “Regret? We don't have the luxury of regret, Harold. Right now all we have time to think about is how we are going to survive this mess. So you are going to think of a way to save Reese, and you are going to think of it fast.”

There is a moment of silence then Harold says, “Fine. The Machine can get in contact with a doctor who owes us a favor and ask him to meet us in the shadow map.”

Shaw finally looks over at Root and frowns. “Root? You alright?”

Root hears her, but far away like she is underwater. I’m fine, she wants to say but it won't come out. Of course, she isn't fine. All she tried to do was save Sameen’s life but instead she landed all of them in this mess. It is her fault and instead of hating her they forgave her. She just can't understand it and sure as hell doesn't deserve it.

“Harold, Root doesn't look so good. I think you’d better pull over.”

“We’re nearly there,” replies Harold.

The Machine says, “Vehicle containing assets will be arriving at intended destination in two minutes and forty three seconds.”

-

_”Root?” Harold said just as she was on her way into her bedroom in the subway where Sameen was sleeping._

_Something about his urgent tone and instantaneous use of her name made her stop with one hand on the doorframe and slowly turn round. “Harold?”_

_He took a hurried breath and quietly said, “We need to talk about Sameen.”_

_One of my favourite topics, Root thought. At least, now she’s back._

_When Shaw was gone her memory was like a knife lodged squarely in Root’s chest, a constant background pain that became unbearable whenever somebody nudged it. The knife had been removed but the wound was far from healed, and it looked like the scar might be permanent. “What about her?”_

_If Harold noticed the flash of sadness that crossed her face, he didn't comment. “Specifically, Sameen in relation to Samaritan. It can see her now and, without making assumptions as to her mental state, having her be able to go outside and help on missions would be beneficial if she could do so without putting us all at risk.”_

_Root momentarily glanced through the bead curtain to see the outline of Shaw sleeping heavily under the covers, having lost weight since she was last with them. Rougher around the edges but still solid at the core. A little smile tugged at Root’s lips as she remembered for the millionth time how strong and brave Shaw is. Then she turned her attention back to Harold and looked at him closely, gleaning what information she could from his facial expression. She rested her hip against the doorway and folded her arms. “You want to find a way of preventing Samaritan from locating her, and you have a few ideas but nothing concrete.”_

_Harold exhaled slowly. “Your powers of deduction have yet to fail you. I was thinking that maybe we could acquire some sort of transponder so when Sameen walks past a camera Samaritan will see somebody other than her. Tragically this will also prevent the Machine from being able to see her, but we could always use other means of communication.”_

_“But where would you get a transponder?”_

_“We could always ask the good detective to purchase one. Or at least, the parts for one.”_

_Root shook her head. “Samaritan will be extra diligent now, so we can't risk anything that would look even remotely suspicions and might put somebody close to us on its radar. And getting the Machine to order it wouldn't work either, since Samaritan would be able to track the delivery.”_

_For a second Harold frowned and gave her a searching look. “Since when did you care what happened to people close to us enough to exercise such caution?”_

_“Since I got everyone I care about back. I’m not losing any of you ever again.” The beginnings of an idea began to form in her mind as she debated what Harold has suggested. Then it dawned on her. “I know what we need to do. I’ll start working on it soon, but I promised Sameen I would be there when she woke up.”_

_Harold nodded and walked towards the subway car, leaving Root to enter her bedroom and sit on the chair facing Sameen, who was fast asleep clutching Root’s stuffed bat. When getting into bed she had said, “I know this isn't a simulation because only the real you would be lame enough to have a lava lamp and a stuffed toy”, closely followed by something that sounded suspiciously like “and it smells like you” as she got settled beneath the covers._

_Curled up in a ball, Sameen looked so small and vulnerable that it made Root want to protect her. Even though, of course, Shaw was the one who did the protecting. No matter the personal cost. As evidenced by the bandage behind her left ear, partially covered by hair._

_Before she fell asleep, Shaw had given them instructions on how to safely remove the chip which Root carried out carefully and managed to hold it together until John took over to do the stitches, at which point she broke down in tears. Thankfully Shaw wasn't awake to see and tell her how ridiculous she was being._

-

When they pull into the area of banking below the bridge, a young man is stood waiting for them clutching a bag of medical supplies. As soon as Harold switches off the engine, he steps out and greets the man with a hurried handshake. Only afterwards does he remember to take off the ski mask and does so in a slightly hurried manner, removing his glasses and replacing them afterwards.

The doctor’s face lights up with recognition immediately, “Harold! I got a self-deleting text from an anonymous number telling me to bring supplies to this location, I might have known you would be involved somehow.”

“Good afternoon, Dr Madani. It’s nice to see you again, but I regret that it is under such terrible circumstances.” He leads the doctor towards the car and opens the back door next to Root. Which, for some reason, makes her feel exposed. “Tragically, one of our friends was shot and needs urgent medical attention.”

Root starts to get out of the car to make room for Dr Madani since this is really not her area of expertise and she would just end up being a nuisance, but Shaw grabs her arm to stop her. “I’m going of need your help. We have to move fast. While the doctor prepares his equipment, I need you to cut off John’s shirt and begin cleaning the wound.” 

Root nods and Shaw takes a swiss army knife out of a holster in her boot and hands it to Root, who examines it appreciatively for a second. The attachments are useful and of high quality, but a taser is more her style. Less getting your hands dirty and no need to get quite so up close and personal.

Harold stands outside the car and stares out at the river. From the rise and fall of his chest, Root guesses he is taking calming breaths. Then he gets his phone out of his pocket and begins communicating with the Machine. Clearly keeping Her quite busy since She doesn't say anything to Root.

Dr Madani steps back and to his left to open the front passenger door, and Bear leaps out and goes to sit next to Harold who strokes his ears. Then the doctor dumps his bag on the seat and begins removing its contents, beginning with a tray that he cleans with an antiseptic wipe. “Is the wound a -”

“It’s not a through and through,” Shaw says as she leans through the gap between the seats to see what he has brought. “We got the bullet out in the field. Stitches and gauze is the best we can do at the moment.”

The doctor gets a swab out of his bag and drips some brown fluid on it, then hands it to Root and tells her to clean the area surrounding the injury. He pulls on a pair of blue rubber gloves while Shaw does the same then proceeds to sterilise his instruments and equipment and lay them on the tray.

Root begins work making one long slit in John’s shirt and moving it out of the way, which is enough to fully expose the area. She is thankful he is unconscious because she isn't sure he would be entirely happy with Root giving him medical care, or at the very least seeing him mostly shirtless.

And that's when it hits her. That this is John’s blood because John was shot and now his life is in danger and they are trying to save him. She starts to panic, lights flashing in the corner of her vision and her hands begin to shake again and her breathing becomes more rapid. Before she even realises what is happening, Shaw’s gloved hand takes Root’s own and Shaw rubs slow circles on Root’s wrist with her thumb. It helps Root calm down enough to finish her task with a slight detached mentality. But if that is what it takes to help him then she’ll go with it.

Even though it has stopped bleeding - which Root really hopes is a good thing - there is a lot of blood and now it is in open air the smell is much stronger and makes her nauseous. But she tries not to focus on that, instead attempting to see it in a more impersonal manner. Think of it like a video game. You have to clean the wound to get points and you get more every time you don't pass out.

Then she runs the swab around the area and notices how even though it might get rid of some of the blood it doesn't actually make anything cleaner. Just...browner, and the strong smell of antiseptic invades her nostrils. For a second her stomach lurches and she temporarily leans out of the car to gulp in fresh air.

“Now use this, clean the whole area wound included,” orders Shaw as she hands Root a second swab with a clear liquid on it.

Shaw in doctor mode makes Root smile, because she already knows how skilled Shaw is but it is always nice to have a little reminder. ‘Technically brilliant, remarkably calm’ was what her file said, and Root can certainly agree with that in this instance. 

Root obliges and is surprised to see how small the injury actually is. To distract herself, she begins talking. She often finds that it is easy to just open her mouth and allow the words to flood out, regardless of their relevance to the current situation. “You know, I always hated Biology back in the day. I had Mr Mattheu - ugh. But the question is, did I hate Biology because I had Mr Mattheu or would I have hated it regardless? And now I don't do it anymore so it is Schrödinger’s subject. So long as I never have another teacher, I both like and dislike Biology.”

Dr Madani finishes sterilising his equipment and climbs into the back of the car. Then checks Root’s sterilising job and, deeming it satisfactory, begins to stitch the injury up, while Shaw passes him what he needs and generally acts as a second pair of hands. “You seem to really know what you're doing Miss…”

“Shaw. I was in med school for a bit.” 

“What happened?”

“You tell me,” Shaw replies without really paying attention. “You're a doctor, I bet you can figure it out.”

Dr Madani ties off his threat and places a padded white dressing over it, which he secures with surgical tape. Then gives Shaw a close look and Root feels her hands clench into fists. He shouldn't be looking at her girlfriend like that, like there is something wrong with her. “You don't seem as stressed as your friends here, so I’m guessing some form of personality disorder.”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner,” says Shaw. “Ten points to Gryffindor.”

Dr Madani cracks a smile as he goes to pack up his equipment. “Actually I’m in Ravenclaw.” Harold returns holding his phone in one hand so Dr Madani gives him a quick update. “We patched up your friend best we can but he is looking very pale.”

In Root’s ear the Machine says, “Primary Asset Reese will need seven units of O- blood and IV fluid replacement.” 

Root relays the message to the team and Dr Madani pauses mid-speech, looking at her strangely, “Yes that is what I was about to say. But I didn't know his blood type.”

With a forced smile, Shaw puts her hand on Root’s shoulder, “My friend knows a lot of things.”

“Thank you for your help, Dr Madani,” Harold says, shaking his hand again. “We really appreciate it.” The others nod their agreement, then the doctor takes his leave. Once he has gone, Harold addresses the entire team. “The Machine has arranged a private jet for us at a nearby airport. Some things were more illegal than I would have liked but desperate times call for desperate measures, and it is hard to put a price on our safety from Samaritan. After all, once we are safe then it will be easier to device a plan to take it down once and for all.”

“And what about the numbers?” Shaw asks.

Root had been about to ask the very same thing, since that seemed to be Harold’s main goal and motivation. It was oddly out of character that he should suddenly cease to care about them.

Harold smiled, which none of them were expecting. Root wonders for a second if she has an external processing error. “Actually, about that. It turns out while we were so busy with the big picture, the Machine set up several backup teams taking care of numbers for us. The team about to take over for us here consists of Harper Rose, Logan Pierce and Joey Durban.”

Shaw does a double take, which Root finds adorable. It is rare that Shaw is surprised by everything and Root really wishes there was a camera around somewhere so She could play it back to her on repeat. “Really?”

“Indeed, Miss Shaw.”

“See, Harry,” Root says. “She is always looking out for us, even when you don't realise it.”

-

_”Welcome back to the belly of the beast,” Root said quietly. There was a door in front of her and she lifted up her sleeve of her stolen lab coat to reveal the still-healing site where she had implanted an ID chip. There was still a faint scar from when she had done the same thing while accompanied by Shaw, way back when._

_The man she knocked out and stole the chip from had been a different person, so maybe the previous goon had been fired for his lax security job that had allowed her to break in so easily the first time. Clearly this guy deserved to be fired as well - he had been no match for her taser and well-placed punch, after all._

_Root held her wrist under the scanner and waited for it to turn green. For a gut-wrenching second it remained red, then changed and the gate slid open. She entered silently hid just around the corner, then leaned out slightly to look around the room. It was unpleasantly warm from all the computerware even though the AC was cranked up to full blast._

_Thousands of servers were lined up, each displaying a different combination of blue lights. Root said, “I can't see any cameras. Do You know if it’s safe?”_

_“No cameras anywhere. It would seem Samaritan didn't plan on anyone breaking in,” replied the Machine._

_“They didn't plan on me,” Root whispered. Then walked between the servers until the Machine told her to stop._

_“This one. Upload the virus here.”_

_“I hear You.” Root knelt down and got her laptop out of her shoulder bag, using an extension cord to plug it into the server. It was the same server she had used previously since that one already had the necessary data that could make Shaw ‘irrelevant’ or whatever Samaritan’s equivalent was._

_Her and the Machine had constructed a virus that would encrypt all data concerning Shaw and prevent Samaritan from being able to see her. It was risky and Root knew there was only a 7.402% chance of it being successful, but she had faith and strongly felt it was better than nothing so they had to at least try._

_Initially the Machine didn't want her to do it, but they both knew Root could be very persuasive when it comes to Shaw’s safety. After almost a whole day of arguing back and forth Root had said, “Look. I am going to do this; so you can either back the hell off, or pitch in and make sure I don't get myself killed. Which is it going to be?”_

_So She gave Her answer and Root grabbed her coat and left the subway without looking back._

_“I’m uploading the virus and...done.” Root unplugged her laptop and stood up, but suddenly all the lights on the server came on. She took a hurried step back and clutched the strap of her bag. “What’s happening? What does that mean?” She had a sick feeling that an unpredictable variable had come into play._

_“I don't know,” the Machine admitted._

_“But You know everything!”_

_“Samaritan can't see me, I can't see it. That’s how it works, you know this.”_

_Root chewed her thumbnail - a habit she thought she’d kicked to the curb years ago - and took a closer look at the lights. “Is there anything I can do?”_

_“I don't think so. But I recommend you get out of there now, because somebody will have noticed. And if it means Samaritan can see you - real you, not a cover identity - then you really need to hurry.”_

_No alarms went off that either of them were aware of, so maybe Samaritan had taken a liking to the strategy where the deviant felt they were in no danger of getting caught and got cocky, leading them to make mistakes that became their undoing._

_Root quickly walked over to the exit and held her wrist under the scanner. “I’ll be fine. I have You to protect me.”_

-

“Samaritan is searching for you,” the Machine says to Root. “You need to get to the private jet ASAP.”

Root is surprised to discover she gets a little rush of adrenaline at the thought of a potential shootout. After taking a more critical assessment of what she feels, she comes to the conclusion that she is itching for a chance to have a physical enemy she can fight, rather than hiding in the shadows and fighting against her anxiety. It’s much easier to swing a punch at somebody else than it is your own subconscious.

“The Machine says we need to head to the airport, Samaritan is looking for us,” she says. Harold nods once, pulls his ski mask back on then climbs into the driver's seat. 

Shaw gets into the back, lifts John’s legs up while she sits down then lets them rest on her thighs. Root has an internal debate for all of 0.1 seconds before deciding to return to her spot on the floor by Shaw. Bear joins her and Root gently runs her fingers through his fur, letting the familiar texture sooth her nerves which were already worn to a threadpaper.

Harold floors the ignition and drives as fast as possible towards the airport while the Machine advises him on the most direct route.

Root gives it a second then whispers to Shaw, “I’m so sorry about everything. I can give myself up to Samaritan in exchange for your freedom, I honestly don't mind. You have already been captured by them once, I’m not about to let it happen again.”

She sees Shaw’s jaw tighten and the blood in her good ear starts rushing, causing her to almost miss Shaw’s answer. “Semper fi.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s short for semper fidelis, which is Latin for always faithful or always loyal. We used to say it in the Marines. What I mean is, it wasn't your fault our covers got blown, you were just trying to help. We're in a bad situation but there isn't any right or wrong, victory or mistake. There’s just us.”

Root nodded, a little pathetically, and imagined that if half of John’s body weight wasn't literally on top of her Sameen would give her a hug.

“There is an unmarked van headed your way at a 70 miles per hour. I’ll do what I can to speed up your journey,” the Machine says to Root who repeats it for the team.

“Hold onto your hats, it’s going to be a bumpy ride,” she adds of her own accord with a little smile.

Shaw rolls her eyes then takes hold of the handle above her car door. Root hunches up into a little ball and presses her back against the seat behind her.

“Ready?” asks Harold, poised in position.

Root glances at Shaw, who nods, then replies, “Floor it.”

Harold slams his foot down with such ferocity that it makes an audible thump and the car judders for a second before surging forwards. He takes the nearest turn far too hard and the tyres skid while Shaw’s shoulder slams into the side of the car, making her exclaim.

Root doesn't say anything but has the biggest grin on her face, as if this is the most fun she’s had in ages. Her logic when positioning herself was well thought out, because she barely moves compared to Harold and Shaw who are swaying like marooned sailors who have had one too many bottles of rum.

They reach a set of traffic lights but just when it looks like they are going to have to slow down, it turns green and they continue to barrel forwards at considerably over the speed limit.

They come to a busy road with standstill traffic, but Harold yanks the steering wheel and they swerve - technically driving on the wrong side - and continue forwards. The next traffic light also turns green for them just in time and the Machine says in Root’s ear, “You're welcome.”

Sometimes She will make a little comment to Root without any of the others noticing, and Root holds on to each one like a bright candle in her all too dark life.

Then they come up to an intersection, and Shaw looks over her shoulder. “You have three guesses as to who is behind us.” She turns back to Root. “But you won't need three.”

“Samaritan,” Root whispers. Her mouth feels dry, her tongue sandpaper. Bear lets out a little whimper and she strokes his nose comfortingly.

“Got it in one.” Shaw raises her voice to speak to Harold, “Finch, put the pedal to the metal. We aren't making it this far just to die now!”

“Whatever you say, Miss Shaw.” They reach the intersection and pause for a second. Root assumes She is giving Harold directions. She cranes her neck to see the black van out of the back window, maybe two or three car lengths behind them. They might have the government, the military and thousands of allies, but Team Machine have four very determined people, a dog and a friendly AI.

“They are coming for us,” Root announces with a wicked smile. “Well, I say: let them come.”

They reach the large intersection and every single light in the area turns green at once.

Chaos erupts within milliseconds.

Nobody seems to know what to do. A handful of cars honk in protest and several just stay put out of pure confusion, but the majority surge forwards in perfect unison.

“Go,” the Machine says through Root.

Harold powers the car forward and barrels through the traffic. For one heart racing second there are cars everywhere, each driving in a different direction and every single one within a centimetre of the car next to them. Time seems to slow down in heightened detail.

But they keep going, and soon make it to the other side where they are spat out onto a nearly deserted stretch of road.

“Oh thank goodness,” says Harold, breathing a sigh of relief.

Root feels the same way, then looked out of the back window to see Samaritan’s van swallowed up in the chaos with no way of catching up with them. 

So long suckers! she thinks victoriously. Shaw looks over at her and they share a quiet smile.

-

_Root stumbled like a drunkard into the subway station, exhaustion barely allowing her brain to communicate with her body. There were bags under her eyes and a fog clouding her brain that turned her blood to sluggish ooze._

_As soon as Shaw poked her head out of the subway car, her jaw dropped. “Oh my God Root what happened!” she asked quickly in a tone that would be concern on anyone else, but for Shaw it was utter desperation._

_The unexpected sound caused Root to start and lose whatever fragile control she had over her limbs, nearly tripping over her own two feet. But thankfully Shaw saw what was happening and raced over just in time to catch Root by the waist to steady her. She led Root over to the bench and sat her down carefully. “What happened?”_

_“I messed up,” Root said in a hollow voice. “I tried to stop Samaritan from being able to see you but now it can see all of us. I don't know how. I don't even know how the Machine knows that much, but the important part is that She does and now we’re screwed. And not in the fun way,” she adds with the ghost of her usual smirk._

_What she wouldn't give for this all to be a horrible dream or simulation that she could wake up from. To test her theory, Root bites the inside of her cheek. Sure enough, it hurts. Sharp and real. Just like the knowledge that she put Shaw in danger._

_Shaw exhaled slowly through her nose and leant back on the bench. “I’m not even gonna ask how the hell you got close enough to try something like that.” She turned away and stared stonily at the floor in front of her._

_Root’s skin prickled as she searched Shaw’s body language for signs of anger. Half of her needed to know if Shaw hated her how and the other half was too afraid of what the answer might be. Her chest felt tight and there was a horrible weight in her stomach. “Sameen,” she said quietly. “We have to go. I don't know if I was followed...everything is a bit of a blur honestly.”_

_Shaw stood and motioned for Root to stay put. “The boys are working on something in the back. I’ll go get them and some supplies then we can be out of here.”_

_She walked away and Root could hear her saying something, followed by a reply from Harold then a silent gap in which she imagined John was speaking. Since he seems to think he is Batman in more ways than one. Normally the comparison would have brought a smile to her face, but in Root’s current mindset it only served to make her feel even guiltier._

_Shaw returned with a large weapons bag in one hand and Bear’s leash in the other, with the dog trotting calmly by her side. “Finch’s packing up his computer junk,” she said. “And Reese is - here.” John followed her out, holding a similarly sized bag with a grenade-launcher shaped bulge in it._

_“That’s gr-”_

_The doorway was blown open wide open in an explosion of rubble and dust._

_The rest of Root’s sentence was ripped from a mouth in a scream that she didn't even realise she was making until her vocal chords twinged a split second later. She closed her mouth and began to tremble, unsure of what to do or where to go or how to react. The boom had left her good ear ringing and everything sounded like she was hearing it through a pillow. It was disorientating and horrible. Not to mention the dust cloud that surrounded all of them and made Root cough into her elbow._

_Luckily, Shaw didn't appear to be fazed in the slightest and took over instantly. “Bear, verbergen!” She dropped his leash and pointed to the subway car, which the dog ran over to and hid in with Harold._

_As soon as the air had cleared, three Samaritan operatives in gas masks entered and opened fire on them. Instinctively, Root raced for cover and dropped to the ground behind Harold’s desk while Shaw did the same and dove down next to her._

_John was only a split second slower but when he joined them, he was clutching his abdomen where a red patch was blooming beneath his fingers. Shaw took one look at him and said, “Stay still. Moving will increase blood loss.”_

_Bullets flew through the air over their heads and some embedded themselves in the back of the desk, which made a resounding thud and shook the wood behind them._

_Shaw raided her weapons bag and produced one gun for herself and two for Root. “Two guns at once,” she said with a little grin. “Some people think that's kinda hot.”_

_Even though her hearing was still out of whack, Root understood perfectly and grinned. “Anything for you, Sweetie.” Then she checked the guns were loaded and switched off the safety. Brandishing one in either hand she said, “Ready to send these suckers back to where they came from?”_

_Shaw shouldered her rifle. “I thought you'd never ask.”_

_After giving a nod, Root leaned out of one side of the desk and fired several quick rounds in succession at the enemies, unsure of how much damage she actually did. At the same time, Shaw leaned out of the opposite side and presumably managed to land a few hits, but not enough to take any of them down._

_“I think they're wearing bulletproof vests,” Shaw shouted over the commotion._

_Root huffed, “Now that's just rude.” She turned back to them. “How you doing, John?”_

_In response, he grunted and said in an even lower whisper than usual, “Fine.”_

_“Ok.” Root peered around the side of the desk and tried to come up with a plan. They needed to devise a way to subdue these people then get out, fast. Desperate times call for desperate measures. “Cover me.”_

_Shaw began to protest but Root got up and raced towards the subway car, firing as she went and taking down all three of the enemies. They dropped to the ground like stones and Root casually surveyed the damage. Dust and pieces of concrete everywhere, a massive hole in the wall and hundreds of bullet casings. And that was just on the floor by the entrance. There were also hundereds of small dents in the desk, a smashed window on the subway car and bullet holes decorating the side. Thankfully, they seemed to have missed all of the computer equipment._

_“It's a good thing we're planning on leaving,” she said mildly. “This lot would be a beast to clean up.”_

_Shaw slowly helped John up then walked over to the subway car with him leaning on her. “Yeah, that's our biggest problem now.”_

_“Harry, you can come out now,” Root called. “It’s safe.”_

_Harold emerged from the car holding Bear’s leash. “My goodness that sounded awf - Mr Reese were you hit?!” He abruptly broke off and stared in horror at John’s injury._

_“It's just a graze, Harold,” he replied with a tone and wince that strongly contradicted his words. “I’m fine.”_

_Shaw cleared her throat, “I hate to be the person that does this but: we need to get out of here, there will be more where they came from.” She imitated the tone of every world-weary war hero from an action film who needed to protect the citizens of a war-ravaged nearby planet from the failed government experiments who terrorised their villages at dark._

_“Yes of course,” said Harold with one last look at the hideout that had served them so well for so long. Root’s skin prickled again and she thought that if they got sentimental she might have to shoot something. Guild does weird things to emotions, and her adrenaline was crashing after the firefight._

_They picked their way through the rubble as Shaw led them outside, then produced a ski mask from her pocket and handed it to Harold. “You're behind the wheel.”_

_“What? We don't…” Despite his confusion, he accepted the mask and watched Shaw helplessly. A true testament to how well they knew each other._

_Shaw had previously been helping John stand, but gave Root a questioning look and, when she nodded, transfered some of John’s weight onto Root. She then marched over to the side of the moderately busy road and hailed the nearest taxi, who pulled over and rolled down the window. A pleasant-looking young man asked, “How can I help you?”_

_“We need to steal your taxi,” Shaw said politely._

_“Excuse me?”_

_Shaw rolled her eyes. “I really hate repeating myself.” Then she pulled a handgun out of the waistband of her jeans and fired at the ground twice. A few nearby pedestrians turned to look at her in horror, and Root smiled. “I said: we need to steal your taxi.”_

_The driver stammered uselessly for a second then scrambled out of the car as fast as he could. “It’s all yours. Just don't shoot me.”_

_As he ran in the opposite direction, Shaw gestured towards the driver's seat. “Finch, you're up.”_

_Harold took a second to process, then pulled on the ski mask while climbing into the driver's seat and positioning it comfortably._

_Root helped John into the car where he lay across the back seat, groaning in pain. “No cameras have seen us yet, kudos to Harry for getting us a hideout in a fairly quiet part of the city.”_

_Shaw knelt on the back seat, one leg either side of John, and pressed a cloth into his still-bleeding injury. “Yeah I’m sure Harold had this exact scenario in his mind when he picked the place, Root.”_

_The memory of everything that had happened hit her like a train and she stood aimlessly for a second, having temporarily forgotten how to function as a person. She did this. She ruined the lives of the people she cares about. If they hadn't met her, they would probably be taking it easy on a beach somewhere by now._

_At Harold’s instruction Bear sat on the front passenger seat. Root moved that seat forwards then got into the back and sat on the floor behind it so she was facing Sameen._

_“Drive, Harold,” Shaw ordered._

_“Where?” he asked._

_“The Machine will direct you,” Root said after being informed by Her. “We need to leave the country, there is no going back from this.”_

_“Alright.” Harold powered their car forwards over the uneven road that made this floor judder._

_“Somebody needs to tell Lionel what is going on,” Shaw said after a while. There was no response. “No volunteers? Alright, I’ll call him.” She tapped her earpiece and waited until he picked up. “Hey Lionel. Listen. Samaritan has taken the subway. Don't look for us. We’ll be fine, just...just take care, OK? Goodbye.”_


End file.
